


pick me up from the dark

by CouldBeBlue



Category: SKAM (Italy)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Martin being a good boyfriend
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-09
Updated: 2018-12-09
Packaged: 2019-09-14 14:15:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16914426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CouldBeBlue/pseuds/CouldBeBlue
Summary: Niccoló hasn't had the best couple of days. Martino thinks he knows how to make it better.





	pick me up from the dark

When Martino gets home, all the lights are off.

He knows Nico is here, if the trail of belongings that lead to Marti’s room serve as any indication; shoes by the door, coat hung on the dining room chair, the barely distinguishable shadow of his backpack leaning in the doorway. But as it is, Marti can’t hear Nico stirring around, and based on the darkness of the place, it’s likely that he’s asleep. 

The past few days have been rough, but nothing they haven’t dealt with before. Nico had missed one english assignment, which turned into two, then into three. The mounting stress had resulted in a crash of sorts, where exhaustion was most of what Nico was feeling. Nothing serious, nothing to raise any alarm bells, but still enough to squeeze Marti’s heart uncomfortably in his chest. He never likes seeing Nico deflated.

Shrugging off his coat, he idles in the dining room, pinching his bottom lip when the idea suddenly comes to him. As noiselessly as possible, he starts pulling pans out from under the stove, filling one with water while closing a drawer with his hip. After a brief onceover in the fridge, he smiles to himself and grabs all the ingredients he needs. After salting the water and putting the pasta in, he ambles around the kitchen, grabbing a bowl and two forks. Humming to himself, he adds the pasta to the cheese, jowl, and eggs, only burning himself once. Marti chances a glance over his shoulder for any indication that Nico has woken up, and then plates the food as silently as he can, cringing when he drops the fork into the sink. Halfway out of the kitchen, holding the tray with the plate, forks, and napkins firmly with both hands, he turns on his heel and fishes something extra out of the fridge.

Marti’s heart squeezes as he pushes the door to his room. The curtains are drawn, and curled up on Marti’s side of the bed is Nico, blankets up to his chin, dark hair stark against the pale blue pillow. Nico’s jeans are in a heap by the foot of his bed, and by the way Marti’s drawer is still open, Nico must have nicked a pair of sweatpants to borrow. The thought makes Marti melt more than he’d ever be willing to admit. 

Nico stirs, pressing his face into Marti’s pillow before inhaling deeply, eyes blinking up at Marti.

“Is that what I think it is?” he says, voice scratchy and everything Marti could wish for.

“Depends on what your definition of carbonara is,” Marti teases, setting the tray down by Nico’s legs before leaning in to kiss him. “Because based on what you call carbonara, mine is definitely different.”

Nico smiles against Marti’s mouth, “Remind me again, who worked in a restaurant before?”

“I can eat this by myself, you know,” Marti says, straightening up and nudging Nico’s legs. Nico sits up, making room and pulling the train in between them. 

“Okay, okay, you win. Let’s eat,” he stretches, stifling a yawn before picking up a fork. 

“Wait!” Marti interrupts, fishing into his sweatshirt pocket. Nico looks up, face perplexed, melting into a smile when he sees the small bottle of tabasco Marti is holding.

“For your refined palette,” Marti says with a smile so fond it’s bordering on shy. Nico’s smile softens into something indescribable, reaching out and cupping Marti’s face in the palm of his hand, stroking his cheek with his thumb. He pushes up onto his knees to kiss him across the tray, rubbing his nose along Marti’s. 

“Thank you,” he whispers, pressing another kiss to the corner of Marti’s mouth, unbearably sweet. He takes the tabasco from Marti and sets it on the tray, smiling down at the plate with an unbridled fondness before taking a bite. Nico closes his eyes and makes a happy little humming noise, eyes flicking up at Marti with a warmth that makes Marti ache. 

“It’s very good,” Nico says after chewing, “not as creative, but still good.” And there it is, mischief waking up in his gaze.

Marti rolls his eyes, unable to keep even a mock serious face. “So sorry it’s not up to standard, you’ll have to forgive me.” 

Nico laughs, head bobbing, whole body following in suit, the way Marti knows his laugh best. Loves it best. 

Nico then takes the tabasco and adds just a dash onto the plate, and smiles. 

“It’s perfect.”

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> It's been a minute hasn't it! I kinda have forgotten how ao3 and this all works, but you can find me on tumblr at couldbebluer <3


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